Experiments
by Yomi
Summary: A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.
1. Ten Minutes Ago

**EXPERIMENTS**

**A Hunter Fanfic by Yomi**

**Chapter One**

**

* * *

Summary:** A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** Hunter x Hunter is copyrighted by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation

* * *

**  
Ten Seconds Ago…**

The weather is always oblivious to one's personal circumstances. It could rain on your birthday and present an endless dazzling blue sky when failure chokes the breath from your lungs and life falls apart all around you.

Today, the weather struck up a warm breeze and sent a few pure-white puffs of clouds drifting high above Ritteneur's funeral, attended by a lone, solitary figure whose ebony mane sporadically flirted with the wind.

Illumi listlessly studied the rough engravings on the tombstone. There was scant information. Theodore Ritteneur, died in battle, age unknown. His rough estimate would have put Rittenuer at sixty-eight, but he didn't want to put guesses on the man's last mark in the world, to remind anyone who'd care that he'd existed.

"Sorry, old man," the assassin muttered, unblinking eyes still fixed on the unresponsive stone. "If there is another life, I sincerely hope you've found your family and peace."

The sentimentality was unsettling, as was the guilt that corroded his insides. In the distance, a familiar white-haired figure alighted from a polished black vehicle and purposefully moved towards him. For a moment, Illumi desperately felt like running away.

His dad's face was contorted in disgust. "For goodness sakes, get it out of your system. We've got work to do."

Silva tossed a cylindrical object wrapped in a brown paper-bag at Illumi and folded his arms across his chest, scowling in the general direction of the tombstone. His son carelessly dropped the wrapping on the ground, concentrating on breaking the seal from the bottle of liquor. Illumi wordlessly tipped clear, golden brown liquid onto the ground until the bottle was emptied of all contents.

"Put this madness behind you, Illumi. Now you know what normal people have to go through when others die. I hope you've learned how utterly pointless grief is and why we have always insisted that assassins don't need - "

"It's ok," Illumi blandly interrupted. "I don't think it's that bad."

Silva just looked at him as he continued. "At least Ritteneur had someone to fashion a grave, however crude," he softly added at the end. "It's kind of…a privilege to have someone send you off and give you a last goodbye."

"When you're dead, you're dead. What does it matter whether the living erect a monument in your name or not if you're not even around to appreciate it?"

Squaring his shoulders, Illumi tossed aside the bottle, hearing it hit the ground with a hollow thud, and sniffed, shrugging aside the disagreement. "I don't expect you to understand."

Silva derisively snorted. "I don't want to understand. Get a move on."

They headed up the slope, carelessly treading down stalks of dandelion and ignored the pollen that clung to the fabric of their trousers. As they reached the road and simultaneously swung the car doors open, Silva stalled and looked down causing Illumi to hesitate. Frowning slightly, he patiently waited, anticipating another reprimand.

"Illumi…"

"Yes?"

"You never thought that…I would grieve…or be upset if you died, did you?"

"Of course not," Illumi replied smoothly, always keeping people, even his father, guessing at his real emotions. "It's not in you. To grieve is to have been emotionally invested or attached to someone in the first place. I never had any illusions about who you are and what we have, or don't have for that matter."

Silva actually looked relieved. "You had me worried for a moment there."

Illumi stepped into the car and slid onto the slippery leather seats, fingers digging hard into the supple material to keep his balance. "I take it that was just a figure of speech."

"Of course," Silva nodded, only half listening as he his attention was absorbed by the text and data he was scrutinizing of their latest target.

"Good, because I wouldn't know what to do if you cared."

Illumi closed his eyes and envisaged Ritteneur in his mind one last time with the weights of defeat lifted from the corners of his wistful, wry grin as he was rejoined by his loved ones.

And a part of him broke free, waved a cheerful farewell at his old self, and went towards the fading light to join Ritteneur and his family before they disappeared for good.

He opened black eyes devoid of warmth and feeling. "Let's talk about the percentage split for this commission."

Things were finally back to normal for him.


	2. Ten Hours Ago

**EXPERIMENTS**

**A Hunter Fanfic by Yomi**

**Chapter Two**

**

* * *

Summary:** A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** Hunter x Hunter is copyrighted by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation

* * *

_**  
Ten Hours Ago **_

The groceries were bulging in the brown paper bags and almost overflowed, forcing Illumi to peer between the tops of the celery and bread sticks to find the swinging gate.

It was dusk, the sun a blazing ball of red sinking into the horizon tainting the clouds pink and orange and purple. Illumi had just returned from a week's tour through the neighbouring villages and decided to do some shopping before he returned home. He walked down the front path with growing unease as he noticed the long shadow thrown by his front door left ajar.

He deliberated between discarding his goods or taking it into the house with him. Letting his old assassin paranoia get the better of him, he prepared for the worst and carefully set down his groceries by the doorstep and silently stepped into a dark house, pins at the ready in his free hand.

All the curtains had been drawn tightly shut, forcing gloom to descend upon his home. The moment he stepped in, the all too familiar metallic tang of blood hit his nostrils and his stomach knotted in dread. His eyes immediately adjusted to nocturnal vision, allowing him to effortlessly scan the rooms and pick up the details with ease.

There was no sign of struggle, no overturned furniture or broken walls, only one body lying on his side on his lounge room floor. Illumi cleared out the rest of his house, pulled aside the curtains to allow the golden-orange light in and bathe Ritteneur's dead body like a funeral pyre.

It was undeniably Silva's work. He could remove someone's heart without so much as a drop of blood, but he had deliberately made this a bloody mess to make a point.

Illumi knelt in the pool of blood beside the body, not caring that the thick viscous liquid seeped into the fibres of his clothing as he reached out with a trembling white hand to close those misted green eyes.

A thousand questions bombarded his mind. Why didn't he defend himself? Did he want to run, only that he didn't have the chance? What was he feeling at the time? Did he know who his attacker was? Did he know this day would eventually come? Was there anything he wanted to say to him before he died?

Did he ever regret living with a Zoldick?

Unable to cope with the burgeoning pressure in his skull, Illumi staggered backwards and collapsed into the couch. Something wet trickled down his face, one drop after another, and it took him a minute to realize he was crying.

He stared at the clear droplets that splattered into his calloused palms as if they were a precious miracle. He had cried once in the past. He was four, and Mike returned from training, a changed dog. He obediently heeded all commands, but he no longer curiously sniffed at Illumi's clothing, stick his cold nose in his small hands hoping to lick away some crumbs leftover from lunch and no longer pounced on Illumi when Silva had his back turned and laved Illumi's gleeful expression with saliva.

When Mike stared at him with glazed yellow eyes starved of a soul, sitting on his haunches awaiting his next command, Illumi wordlessly retreated to his room and silently cried himself to sleep.

He shut his eyes and bought his legs up to his chest, huddling into a ball and rested his forehead on his blood-soaked knees. His splintering headache blocked out the sounds of his wretched sobs and he gradually lost track of time.

His phone rang some time later and he broke out of his stupor long enough to grope for the device in his pocket and see the identity of the incoming caller on the luminous screen. The glare of the light stung his eyes and he realized that night had descended as the room was captured in pitch-black silence.

"Yes mother?"

There was a prolonged silence. Did his mother not expect him to pick up? Or was there something in his voice which gave her pause for concern?

"Your father is going to meet up with you tomorrow morning. There's a new job."

His eyes were droopy; he recognized it as fatigue and stifled a yawn. "Understood."

"Illumi…"

"Yes mother?"

Again, there was another pregnant pause that made him feel uncomfortable and irritated.

"Don't be late," Kikyou finally snapped before hanging up.

Illumi slipped the phone back into the back pocket of his trousers and allowed himself a few hours rest.

He roused during the last minutes of twilight and stretched. Each muscle and joint screeched in pain but that was casually ignored. He went into the bathroom and had a shower, washing away the blood that had dried and caked overnight, and changed into a fresh set of clothes. Then he went to the kitchen and decided he wasn't hungry.

Instead, he turned the gas taps on full and retreated back into the lounge room where he spared Ritteneur's body one last glance. He couldn't remember a time when, in his many years in the business of assassination, the sight of a cadaver made him feel violently ill.

The smell of gas was thick in the air and he exited the house by the back door. When he was at a safe distance, he activated the pins that he left scattered on the coffee table, setting them alight, and the house exploded into a furious, vengeful ball of flame. 


	3. Ten Days Ago

**EXPERIMENTS**

**A Hunter Fanfic by Yomi**

**Chapter Three**

**

* * *

Summary:** A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** Hunter x Hunter is copyrighted by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation

* * *

_**  
Ten Days Ago… **_

Silva dubiously observed his surroundings, his expression slightly pinched due to his discomfort. He rearranged his cold and implacable mask and stole a glance at his wife noting that her visor was a disarray of static pounding against the glass screen.

"_This_ is where he's living?" Kikyou said stiffly, feeling distinctly out of place on the doorstep of a one-storey brick home complete with white picket fence, boxed hedges and neat flowerbeds.

"Accordingly to Milluki, this is one of Illumi's many stop-over respites."

"But it's so…" Kikyou struggled to find the right word and finally gave up. "Urgh! Just get him home, and I'll pretend I was never here."

Silva smirked and bought his knuckles up to rap against the varnished wood rather than use the weighted bronze handle.

He knocked once.

Twice.

Just as he was about to bang his fists on the door a third time, it opened. In the doorway stood a man who looked much older than his age, his height significantly stunted by his hunched back opened the door a crack and peered through. His bushy brown brows immediately shot up in surprise before lowering down into a suspicious line.

"Mr and Mrs. Zoldick?" he asked shrewdly taking into their appearances. Either he had detected the thick, impermeable aura of a skilled nen-user and connected the dots, or someone had described their appearance to him.

"This is our son's residence," Kikyou informed the man calmly, coldly, the red dot in her visor now a stark, pulsing crimson line matching the stranger's hostility.

The old man gave an exaggerated sigh and swung the door wide open. Silva and his wife immediately went rigid and battle ready, only to step down the alert after they realized the man meant them no harm.

Not that he could do them much harm. Silva guessed that the stranger dwelling in Illumi's house was about as old as he was, only he looked worse for wear and his nen sputtered weakly about him. But then and again, it could just be a façade to lure them into underestimating him…

"Knew you'd show up some time. Illumi's stopped his previous line of work for quite a while now, hasn't he? Well, why don't you take a seat in the lounge and I'll go make you a cuppa –"

"Excuse me," Kikyou interrupted, making clear she was not inclined to share her friendly side with him. "But who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

The stranger flashed a sheepish, toothy grin displaying mostly yellow, alcohol-stained teeth and said ingratiatingly, "I'm just a friend of your son."

"Friend?" Silva echoed, incredulous. He had heard from Killua about Illumi's affiliations with a psychopath called Hisoka, a relationship he disapproved since the man called Hisoka had attracted the animosity of the Genei Ryodan. On the other hand however, he wasn't happy about Illumi making the acquaintance of frail, useless men long past their prime either.

"Yeah. He's a good kid. Got me out of a rather sticky bind some months ago…"

"Now why would he do that?" Kikyou asked with the false sweetness in her voice that she often shamelessly employed in vain hopes someone would actually be gullible enough to buy her sudden change of heart.

"Oh, you know," the old man replied evasively, "out of the goodness of his heart I suppose."

"Don't make me laugh." Kikyou bought her lace-trimmed up just enough to cover her poisonously twisted smile. "My dear Illumi doesn't have a heart. I made sure of that."

The man just looked at her. "Yes, I guess you did."

Silva decided he had enough of the banter and cut right to the chase. He stepped forward, an otherwise neutral gesture if done by an ordinary person, but by him, it posed a clear threat that the stranger immediately acknowledged. "Where is Illumi?"

Still backing away until there was a sofa between them, the man eventually responded with much reluctance. "He's away for the week. Won't be back until Sunday night."

"And do you know why he has abandoned his _real_ work for the past ten months or so?"

"You'll have to ask your son that, sir. I am no mind reader."

The side of Silva's lips tingled, itching to lift into a snarl. "But would I be correct to presume that you are complicit in his rebelliousness?"

The man took another step back and almost tripped over the glass coffee table. There wasn't any point in masking the fear. "Now now, I'm a firm believer that everyone has the free will to choose what they do. I could nag him all day to give up his old ways, but he might still go back to his former way of life. Conversely, I could just sit here and lift my feet up and Illumi would put away his pins for good…"

The time for talking was clearly over. Silva's eyes were glassy and contained not an ounce of humanity. He only ever had one purpose in his mind when he came knocking, and that was to murder. The stranger, whose name he didn't bother himself to know, successfully swatted aside a blast from Kikyou's visor which attempted to stun him, and almost expectantly awaited Silva's tapered hand to penetrate his body.

Silva ripped the heart out, letting the severed ends of the arteries hang and blood drip steadily into the growing pool of blood. The dead man was still standing and his eyes looked into Silva's live ones with uncanny knowing, as if he had scored a triumph which Silva was unaware. Quietly unnerved, Silva pushed the corpse onto the ground and dumped the still and cooling blood onto the ground, his mind unwittingly blank.

"A grisly murder is worth a thousand lectures. Illumi will get the message. Let's go."


	4. Ten Weeks Ago

**EXPERIMENTS**

**A Hunter Fanfic by Yomi**

**Chapter Four**

**

* * *

Summary:** A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** Hunter x Hunter is copyrighted by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation

* * *

**_  
Ten Weeks Ago…. _**

"I bought some CDs today," Ritteneur called out as he heard the front door open and close, knowing that Illumi was back from work. He heard a vague sound of interest emanating from the young man and ranted a bit, as men his age were wont to do. "Did some digging at the ol' second hand shop coz they don't sell these any more in those retail outlets. They were very popular back in my time. We could just sit and listen to them all day."

"Is dinner done?"

Ritteneur rolled his eyes and stole a quick glance off the clock on the wall. Grimacing, he confessed. "I think I put the rice cooker on."

Predictably, Illumi's annoyed sigh wafted audibly into the living room where Ritteneur had crouched in front of the CD player all afternoon plugging in one shiny disc after another. He had been enjoying himself so much that the hours whittled away before he knew it.

"Did you at least wash the vegetables?" the Zoldick poked an irked face into the room, his sharp, penetrating stare trying to decipher what an old man was doing in front of advanced technology.

He tried to look apologetic. "I guess that slipped my mind."

"Then I guess you can forget about dinner as well."

Months ago, Ritteneur had learned how to distinguish between Illumi's real threats and mere expressions of extreme dissatisfaction. This was just one of the latter because the hairs on the back of his neck remained unruffled.

"Come on! How are you expected to enjoy the golden years of your youth when you let two sticks and a minute hand on a circular face dictate your actions? Sit!"

He beckoned the ex-assassin to join him on the carpet so the younger man could see his acquisitions, which were messily sprawled out all around him. Illumi rolled his eyes, still airing some misgivings about the unprepared state of their meal, but nevertheless acquiesced and settled down beside Ritteneur, fascination overriding his grumpiness.

"Jazz?" he remarked warily, dangling one cover up by the corner with his thumb and forefinger.

"And blues, and the big band," said Ritteneur enthusiastically, "and every other golden oldie you can think of."

The old man was pleased Illumi did not outright reject the music, displaying only deep caution, eyeing the cds as if he had to make sure they weren't about to attack him.

"Well," he began, flicking aside Illumi's apprehension as if it were just dust on the lapel of his coat, "I don't particularly want to force any genre of music upon you; I believe you have to find the style which suits you best; but back in my time – "

"_Your_ time," Illumi repeated, shooting him a very meaningful look and raised eyebrow.

Ritteneur's smile never wavered. "Yes, back in _my_ time, as I said before, we could just sit and listen to this music and forget that troubles ever existed. It was our way of relaxing. Don't know what happened to your generation though – bunch of drug-taking masochistic maniacs. Isn't the glass of malt whiskey and a good record enough?"

"What's your favourite song?"

At that question, Ritteneur looked positively wily, stoking Illumi's curiosity once more. "Now _that_ is a very good question. You see, music doesn't only have one use."

"I've heard of the Devil's Sonata," Illumi agreed, reading the titles of the tracks without much interest. "It is rumoured to be able to mutilate any human being who performs it. According to the myths, one woman lasted two movements, but blood ended up spurting out of every orifice and she died from _exanguination_."

Ritteneur jaw nearly unhinged in horror. "No! I don't mean as a weapon, you silly twit! I mean to _woo women_!"

"Woo women?" Illumi echoed, lost.

"Woo women," said Ritteneur firmly looking deadly serious. "And I wouldn't have met my wife without the right piece of music."

"Woo women?" Illumi repeated again, still not following.

Ritteneur laughed out loud and slapped the Zoldick on the back hard to jolt him back to reality. "So much more for you to learn, sonny. You've got to ask yourself: why did prehistoric-man pick up the lute and sacrifice his own dignity so he could warble like a bad-imitation of a nightingale?"

Wide-eyed, Illumi gave a small shrug. "To woo women?"

"Exactly! Always a fast learner, you are. Here –" Ritteneur snatched a CD off the ground and pressed 'play' with a flourish. "This is the song my wife and I danced to at our wedding."

A string section tentatively landed the first phrases of the melody, the vibrato on the longer notes were sweet and delicate, then came in a male voice, crooning:

_Moon…River….wider than a mile,_  
_I'm crossing you in style….today…_

There was a dreamy look plastered to Ritteneur's face and he swayed to the beat, humming along. "Now Illumi, do you know why prehistoric-man forsook comfortable pants and donned on those ridiculous boots and tights and learnt the waltz – "

"To woo women," Illumi intoned, bored.

Ritteneur instantly snapped out of his revere and pinned Illumi with an unusually piercing green glare. "Wooing women is important! How else do you get breakfast, lunch and dinner cooked for you? Who is going to do your laundry and iron your shirts? And _who_ is going to pose in sexy lingerie for _your_ eyes alone and give you an armful of children?"

Illumi nodded without much enthusiasm.

The old man was now distracted from the topic of music and busy scrutinizing Illumi's appearance, as if it was the first time he had ever truly laid eyes on him. "Now, it pains me to say that you are probably not having much luck at all in the wooing department, correct?"

Illumi could only stare at Ritteneur, wide-eyed, not too happy about the new direction of discussion.

"And it's most likely because you're more pretty than my daughter if she had lived. For your manhood's sake, _who_ _on earth _taught you to grow your hair out like that?"

"You had long hair," Illumi muttered, feeling mutinous having his appearance picked on.

"But it was manly," Ritteneur growled, fist shaking in front of his face. "I had a rough, bushy, _manly_ mane. Yours is smooth, silken, advertisement-quality! Let me tell you now, son, no woman wants to bed a man prettier than she. She wants broad shoulders and buffed pecs to give her a sense of security. You," those eyes mercilessly appraised him again, "can definitely afford to put on another ten kilos."

Illumi was pretty sure his cheeks were red because he felt like they were burning. He covered up his embarrassment with a scowl. "It's my body and I can do whatever –"

"Do you have a lady friend?" Ritteneur asked, severely, implying he would be extremely displeased if the question was answered in the negative.

"I…er…"

"Do you have a long-term acquaintance with a female colleague?"

"No. People don't tend to live long in my line of business."

Ritteneur leaned forward, not allowing Illumi to look away, and asked quietly, "Have you slept with a woman this year?"

Something in Illumi snapped. He jumped to his feet and scuttled back not even realizing he was panting hard and trying to splutter a dozen excuses simultaneously. Ritteneur's green eyes hardened at his reaction and he sneered as if Illumi had just committed the most heinous, most offensive crime known to man.

"I see. So what exactly have you done to solve this _abysmal_ situation?"

"Nothing," Illumi retorted hotly. "Absolutely nothing. I don't have those urges."

"And I'm twenty five again!" Ritteneur roared. Suddenly, the rage was extinguished and he tread onto a new trail of thought that made his brows nearly disappear under his short brown bangs. He sucked in a shaky breath and his tone was now imploring. "Don't tell me you're still seeing that other boy back from the Celestial Tower all those years ago."

Illumi bit his lip and sniffed, looking extremely upset. "It's casual. No strings attached, and the last time was years ago. We're just friends now. He's got his eye on this ice-princess who – "

Ritteneur wasn't listening. He was swept away by a tide of grief and wailed behind gnarled hands that now covered his face, "_Oh, Illumi! How could you! _There are so many eligible bachelorettes. You're strong, healthy, _filthy rich_ and you don't have the numbers of at least ten girls on your mobile phone!?"

Illumi coldly turned away. He wasn't in the mood to cook dinner tonight so he ordered take away instead. When he ventured back into the lounge room, where old jazz was still playing, Ritteneur immediately pulled him onto the couch and launched into a tirade of names.

"There's Mindy, Tara, Lisa, Janice, oh, and Bella down the road is such a sweet, dear thing. Now I think _her _temperament would suit you fine, though give your _questionable_ tastes, you might like Rivera better because she has quite a feisty side, or Dana…"

Illumi felt like crying. "You're old enough to be their grandpas! _Why_ do you know the names of all women under twenty five in this town?!"

Ritteneur threw him an admonishing glare. "Because a father is _always_ on a lookout for a girl who could make his son the happiest man in the world. Now I've got Dana's address and phone number here" – "_you even have her number?!" – _"Take her out on a date tomorrow and I will bar all the doors with nen until two in the morning where I will be inspecting your collar for lipstick marks before letting you back in."

Illumi picked up the biggest, heaviest book closest to hand and repeatedly bashed his head against it, hoping to lose consciousness.

"Stop that." Ritteneur pried the book out of his fingers and hauled him onto his feet, arms outstretched. Illumi blinked. "Now, this is the starting position for the waltz. You're leading. You put your left forward…"

Illumi rolled his eyes and complied. There was no winning against Ritteneur's incorrigibly stubborn nature. History had taught him well enough.

* * *

Many thanks to the following readers: 

**Fiore777 – **You'll have to wait for Chapter 6, 'Ten Years Ago', to find out how Illumi met up with Ritteneur, although the next chapter hints how the two got hooked up. Silva and Kikyou are admittedly cold to Illumi, but it's especially more so when it's contrasted to the way Ritteneur treats Illumi. You may question whether Illumi knowing Ritteneur is a blessing or a curse. Hope these two new chapters don't disappoint!

**Spirits of Evil – **Apologies for the slow update! I've added two new chapters, so hopefully that compensates for the delay. Your review is most appreciated!

**o0o I shall rule the world – **The drama/angst is a bit of a throw-off, isn't it? Don't worry though – I don't intend to make Illumi a weepy character, and the angst (or rather, regret) is more along the lines of 'what could have been' as opposed to some big drama Illumi experienced as a kid that he's trying to get over. My characterisation of Illumi as a young teenager will be quite different to how I've portrayed him in my previous fics. Don't forget to tell me if you love him or hate him when I get to the final 6th chapter!

**Lalala – **I'm glad you enjoyed the fic.


	5. Ten Months Ago

**EXPERIMENTS**

**A Hunter Fanfic by Yomi**

**Chapter Five**

**

* * *

Summary:** A chance meeting with a mentor from his past gives Illumi an opportunity to experience living a normal life and learn something his mentor believed all children are entitled to know.  
**Rating:** T  
**Disclaimer:** Hunter x Hunter is copyrighted by Yoshihiro Togashi, Shounen Jump Weekly, Shueisha and Nippon Animation

* * *

_**  
Ten Months Ago**_

The stench of stale alcohol and dried vomit pervaded the air of a dim-lit pub situate in one of the most disreputable parts of town.

It was compulsion, really. Illumi worked hard and earned lots of money precisely for avoiding dilapidated and run-down dumps like this, home to the junkies and dregs of society who had no place in the civilized world. The assassin stood out like a delicate black rose amongst an unruly swath of briar and prickly weeds and he was starting to attract unwanted attention.

Doubt gnawed at his usually pragmatic and calculated mind. He became increasingly suspicious that it had all been a trick of the light that triggered memories of the bushy russet hair and pine green eyes twinkling above a rueful grin that made him follow, trailing in the shadows like some dumb, lost kid.

His throat involuntarily constricted, choking him for a fraction of a second. Steeling himself clear of memory lane, he turned away from the disgruntled barman trying to deal with a hopeless smashed drunk and made to leave, convinced whatever lured him here was just stress and sleep deprivation doing the dodge to his orderly mind.

Then kitchen doors banged open. An old man dressed in a threadbare jacket and piss-stained pants was thrown into the middle of the room and half a dozen thugs all bursting with muscle formed a rough circle around the wretched figure.

Illumi caught a good look at the crippled old man and felt blood drain from his face. It was no phantom. It was hard reality that landed a blow to his gut harder than any he'd experienced since the final Zoldick test that catapulted him into the Zoldick Family Partnership. It took all his years of training to bite back the cry of surprise, but outwardly, his expressionless countenance spotted wide, incredulous eyes.

He'd aged – no – he was ancient. The gloss that once touched his hair now dulled and hung in clumps, riddled with wide streaks of dirty grey. Ashen skin mottled with age spots now clung limply to the cheek bones and hands once strong enough to break through a nen-enforced sternum to crush the heart in one fatal blow shook like moths near a fire.

"Another month," the old man blustered, a sliver of drool trickling unbidden down his chin. "I can get the money to you – "

The leader of the thugs snorted, swooping down to catch the hold man by the front of his shirt and dragged him two feet of the ground. The old man uselessly kicked and howled in pain as he was thrown back and crashed into a table.

"Me boss is sick n' tired o' hearin the same no-good excuse, Ritteneur, an' he's startin to think that you not ever gonna be able to pay."

In a useless placating attempt, the old man held up his arms and tried to stagger back onto his feet. "And I keep telling ya monkeys that I _will_ get the money and –"

All the patrons of the pub turned back to their drinks, staring intently at their mugs. The more sober ones quietly paid and left and everyone else tried to avoid eye contact with Ritteneur in case the debt collectors thought to turn to them instead.

Unbeknownst to Illumi however, his fingers had curled into fists and nails dug their way past the calluses on his palms until fat drops of vermilion blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Next he knew, he was purposefully striding to the epicenter of the commotion and was engaged in a staring match with the leader.

Bullies made good debt collectors, and bullies by nature were good at scare tactics and intimidation in large groups, but weak and cowardly as an individual. When Illumi's stare stripped away the illusory sense of security the leader derived from his five or six other mates, his eyes darted from side to side and he reeked of fear.

Gulping, the loan shark seemed to recall his own checkered past and produced a snarl which wouldn't have perturbed a mangy stray dog. Illumi gave him points for trying.

"Who're you?"

The Zoldick answered with a question. "What business do you have with this man?"

"He owes me boss money and six months interest."

"And how much would that be?"

Slowly, the thug found his niche as he was back on familiar territory. Negotiations and bargaining. "The principal was six million jenis, and with compound interest, we're talking –"

Illumi had been swimming in the Underground ever since he was taught how to instantly kill a man by pressing his fingers along the pressure points on a person's neck. They expected him to make a counter to the ridiculously bloated figure presented. It was how things worked.

"I'll give you seven million. Take it or leave it."

Predictably, the debt collectors all made small noises of outrage. "That's not even the interest."

"Eight million."

"Twelve!"

Illumi let ice into his voice. "Ten million jenis, your boss gets principal, more interest than he deserves _and _the lives of six of his gang bangers."

The trick did the job, but the thug nevertheless put on a reluctant expression. "It's gotta be upfront."

"Give me the account number." Illumi whipped out his phone as a gesture of compliance. They exchanged details and the transfer of money was made without a word, only both parties traded looks of loathing, except the collectors seemed quite eager to file out of the pub.

Still crumpled on the floor in a graceless heap, spluttering and whispering one plea after another, Ritteneur was completely oblivious to what had just transpired. The anger flared up in Illumi again, and with no more tenderness than the thugs, he hauled the defeated old man onto his feet and dragged him out into the streets.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

Ritteneur awoke six hours later when the sun was preparing its journey into the skies and the horizon was a massive swell of pink and gold and the pale amber rays of light filtered through the unblemished glass and warmed his cold skin.

He looked down at himself and realized that he was shirtless. What arrested his attention however, was the odd dozen or two gleaming pinheads studded all over his naked torso. His eyes widened in panic then settled into disquiet calm after he realized the needles weren't actually causing him any pain.

He warily studied his surroundings. He had been sleeping on someone's couch, and this someone owned a very decent, liveable home. Tapestries trapped in neat frames hung on the walls plastered with pretty wallpaper, and statues and figurines appropriately adorned the mantelpieces. Suddenly, he felt a presence, or someone let him know of their presence, and he swung around, only to gasp aloud as he found Illumi's unblinking gaze boring holes into his soul.

"Who – " he was about to ask of the man seated opposite him, and then cut himself off. Familiarity gradually dawned on his face and his mouth dropped open and Illumi gave him all the patience in the world. "Lulu?" he breathed, not even believing himself as he uttered the old nickname he had for Illumi. Quivering hands hesitantly reached out to cup that porcelain fine face and Ritteneur continued to stare in wonder.

But Illumi would have none of that. He irritably swatted aside the hands and allowed his anger to surface as his lips twisted into a snarl. "What the hell happened to you?"

Still confronted by the blank expression, Illumi expelled a frustrated sigh. "You look like shit. You should've been able to fight off those scum. Hell, you should have been able to scare them off with just a look!"

Ritteneur gave a hollow chuckle and slowly flexed his fingers, studying them as if he was only seeing them for the first time. "I'm old."

"Bullshit. My great-grandfather is _old_, and he still takes on commissions! You've let yourself go. Why didn't you stay at the Celestial Tower?"

The old man in front of Illumi looked down and gave a sigh of his own. "The Celestial Tower security system is not foolproof. I was sick of the assassination attempts and thought the best way was to leave the fame and fortune behind and disappear for good."

Illumi forcibly tilted the man's chin up so they were eye to eye and hissed out in contempt, "And I suppose you finally let the bottle get the better of you as well?"

"And what about you, Lulu? So hasty to judge others, but haven't you resigned yourself to the life of a killer as your parents had laid out for you long before you were even born?"

Illumi shrank back as if he was the one burned. At that moment, he didn't know if he hated Ritteneur for being vulnerable and old, or if he hated himself for who he was.

"Poor Lulu. You've lost your conscience. You've lost your individuality. You've lost your free will and I daresay they're trying to take your humanity away, or have they managed to destroy that as well?"

"I'm fit. I'm strong. I'm wealthy. At least I still have _options_ left available to me. But you – "

A careless wave, a toothy grin full of yellow, rotting teeth, and some of the old playfulness ignited behind those dulled eyes. "My prime's long gone and we pretty much agree that old people don't have the privilege or time for options when we can hear the faint steps of the Reaper approach. But let's talk about you, Lulu – as you said, you're young and yes, you've got options. The real question is whether you're actually going to ever exercise it."

Illumi fell back even further and gazed at Ritteneur in growing dismay as the unlikable, yet all too familiar feeling of being corrected sank in and landed a resounding blow to his pride. He grit his teeth and shook his head hard. "Don't you talk to me as if I'm still a child –"

"Who hasn't heard of the eldest Zoldick sibling? He single-handedly wiped out the ten Godfathers of the Underworld without incurring so much as a scratch, and they say all his kills are all _genteel_, silent and bloodless." Ritteneur experimentally sat up, straightening his back. "You've abandoned everything I taught you?"

"They weren't suitable for me," said Illumi coldly.

"They weren't suitable for your _profession_," Ritteneur candidly corrected, now tilting his head from side to side, surprised not to hear the joints crack. "And I thought that you weren't suitable for your profession either. Too exuberant and bubbly you were – "

" – that was only due to your influence – "

"And a head full of wild dreams and ideas coupled with an shakable will to realize them. Floor Master of Level 213 at the age of fifteen, envy of all veteran fighters, I honestly believed you had the strength to disown the Zoldick tradition and build your own paradise filled with colour and wonder. What happened?"

"I left the Tower. I went home. I had responsibilities." Bitterly, Illumi folded his arms across his chest and breathed in deeply. "I have four brothers to take care of. You don't know what my parents are like. They don't forgive weakness, and all my brothers were so young and helpless. I couldn't abandon them and let my parents drive them down the same path as they did with me." He gave a humourless laugh. "But by the time they were strong enough to decide what they want to do with themselves, I was too old to learn a new way of life."

There was a long silence, dominated by a wistful smile brimming with fondness. Eventually, Ritteneur reached out and tried to ruffle Illumi's hair. "I knew they couldn't take away your soul. Why else would you pull a worthless old coot like me out of the sewers and heal me of my hunch and arthritis?"

Illumi sniffed and warily glanced at the steadily rising and falling chest. "You should try not to move much for the next few days. Your organs, like your liver, have suffered extensive damage from your stupid self-destructive behaviour."

Ritteneur raised an eyebrow. "You're not the reinforcement type. Healing shouldn't be your forte."

"Repairing internal damage is more control than reinforcement. I manipulate muscles and organs, just as I'm feeding nen into you and ordering your body to heal itself."

"Ever thought about being an acupuncturist?"

Illumi's blinked. "Come again?"

But Ritteneur was now swept away by the idea and continued to build upon it, ignoring Illumi's growing unease. "Think about it, Lulu, you could probably shrink tumors and cure cancer just by sticking your needle into it and killing the cancerous cells. You could probably mend ruptured organs without cutting someone open."

"So?" Illumi muttered uncomprehendingly.

"So?" Ritteneur rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You could make millions!"

"I'm already earning millions," the assassin informed, voice hard.

"_Legally_! You won't even have to risk your life, and people will love you instead of loathe you, send you cards at Christmas each year too – bet you don't have this type of relationship with your clients. Heck, you can work your standard nine to five and have weekends off to _do_ stuff."

"_If you keep flailing your arms about like that, I'm going to have to reset the tendons, and this time I'll make sure it hurts."_ Illumi growled, his harsh warning immediately sobering the older man. But it didn't wipe the smirk off his face.

"How about it, Lulu," Ritteneur's voice dropped to a whisper and he threw the young man a secretive wink. "Give yourself a chance, use the opportunities you still have to do something in life that's of meaning and value to_ you_. I taught you your nen ten years ago; maybe I can teach you how to live your life."

Illumi bit his lip and swallowed a lump of anxiety. "That's rich, coming from someone's who's given up."

"Let's make a deal then." Ritteneur edged to the side of the sofa so he could lean forward and clasp Illumi's hands in his own. The assassin looked down and almost quailed in horror – these were hardly the hands he'd remembered; they looked shrunken, shrivelled and frail, bones as brittle as dried twig. "I'll lay off the booze, stop gambling, stay clean and you give the acupuncturist career a shot."

Illumi didn't pull his hands away and merely revelled in the human contact that served no purpose other than to reassure. He often killed his targets at a distance or controlled others to do his bidding and it had been a while since he and Silva had crossed swords, so to speak. It was such a foreign sensation, and it was quite enjoyable.

"You're an alcoholic and gambling addict, but you still manage to give me lectures and make me feel like the same stupid kid trying to break through Floor 200. I don't get it. I've seen more deaths than you would in ten life times, and I've been exposed to cruelty and terror beyond your imagination. How do you do it?"

Ritteneur gave him the all too familiar pinch to the cheek, pulling until it hurt and bought Illumi back to his senses. "What a twisted world," he muttered, more to himself than addressing Illumi. "Some people wish they could be a good father to their children and watch them grow but lose their family. Others have all the children in the world but are never there as a father for them. I might not have much left to offer that you couldn't buy with all your blood money, Illumi, but let us experiment, pretend to be the family we never had."

How long they were lost fathoming the consequences and possibilities, Illumi did not know. Finally, he rose to his feet with his usual implacable grace and brushed his pants free of dirt.

"I'm going out to buy us some groceries for breakfast and lunch. You stay on the couch _and don't move around._"


End file.
